Chasing after Nemesis
by Violentkitsune
Summary: Nemesis, now known as Clary, has lived her life cleaning up after the Olympians. She carried out retribution, and brought justice and mercy upon the mortals after hearing their cries. All she wants now is to relax for another few decades. Unfortunately that's impossible with the God of Desire choosing her as his new prey, and another immortal chasing after her. Greek Myth. AU.
1. Chapter 1

She hated nightclubs. She hated them with a passion.

The whole atmosphere is sickening. The lights are too dark and too brief for one to fully see who's grinding up on them, and everyone's closely packed in like sardines, refusing to provide space for movement besides the sexual kind. The drunker the people get, the more volatile their actions become, and the more their reality starts turning into a nightmare. The shorter the skirt, the more people tried to intrude on one's personal air becomes stale with each new addition to the mass gathered for a night of temporary bliss, and tempers fly the moment a drink slips out of a fumbling hand.

Back at the bar, the drinks were overflowing from the glasses, and the bartenders were struggling to maintain the steady flow of alcohol switching hands. People pushed and shoved in line, while others flirted and swooned with those surrounding them.

"Ex-cuuuse me! Where's my cocktaa-illll?"

A young woman rolled her eyes as she slid a pink Cosmopolitan over to a giggling brunette, her breasts barely held in place by the blue string of rags she dared to call a dress. "Oh my gosh, could you guys be any slo-wer?" She sang drunkenly. "What's a girl gotta do to get her order on time?" The woman toddled off to a booth and slid herself in next to a bulky guy with 'sleaze' written all over him.

 _Dionysus would hate this place_ , Clary thought miserably. _Too low class for his tastebuds._

Of all the jobs she could've picked, Clarissa went for the one with the least pay, the latest hours possible for duty, and the worst clients to tend to. It's not like she was under qualified for the high paying jobs; her brain held thousands of years' worth of knowledge, making her abundantly more qualified than anyone else on the face of the earth.

Well, anyone _mortal_ that is.

The only advantage this job had was that the nightclubs were almost always packed, which meant plenty of emotions and desires for her to feast on in the short amount of hours she worked. Clary pulled the black cloth off her shoulder and wiped down the marble bench, staring grimly in the dark at the mass amount of bodies laid out before her. She would've preferred going in as a criminal lawyer, doing some real work and laying the law down heavily. But that meant settling down, getting a permanent residence, forgery, and long hours spent working on paperwork.

And by the gods, she hated that stuff with a vengeance.

"I could be lounging up top in my house," she muttered miserably, tightening the black apron around her waist as she cast a glance upwards. "All I was going to do was stay and sleep for another few months. But no, the Queen of the Heavens herself had to kick everyone out of Olympus for her anniversary."

Clary huffed and slammed the rack of clean glasses down on the back bench. A lone woman ambled her way over to Clary, dropping her body on a barstool and slumping down on the tabletop. Her entire persona screamed 'bad break-up' in Clarissa's eyes; while the maroon dress was beautiful and modest, with lace sleeves and a plunging back line, her make-up was little smothered around the eyes, with wisps of hair escaping from the elegant chignon at the nape of her neck.

"What's your poison?" she asked, rubbing her fingers together for warmth. After handling a lot of cold drinks, her fingers had started go numb. She had as much love for the cold as she did for paperwork.

"Vodka," she bawled pathetically, slipping a twenty-dollar bill on the bench. "A lot of it."

"Coming up." Clary reached under the counter and pulled up a freshly cleaned glass, reaching behind her to grab the bottle of vodka from the cabinet and poured some into the glass. "Bad break-up?"

The woman baulked at her words. "It's not exactly a break-up" she teased pathetically. "But it's definitely in that general area."

 _You're practically the embodiment of a broken heart,_ Clary thought with cruel amusement. "Well, the best thing to do is to get it all out in the open. Unwind and just let the chips fall where they may."

The girl bit the inside of her cheeks as more tears began to flow down her cheeks. "I hate men," she choked. "I hate them. They ruin you, they use you for entertainment, and they don't give a flying crap about your feelings. We're nothing but a game to them."

 _Artemis could've told you this a long time ago, child._ Clary braced her hands against the bench and looked the woman up and down, analysing her entire being.

The blonde locked eyes with Clary's eyes and wiped away her tears with a napkin. "I'm sorry for unloading this on you," she said sorrowfully. "I must be annoying you, huh?"

 _You should've seen the lines back in Alexander's time,_ Clary reminisced nostalgically. _The number of prayers I received from women begging me to curse their cheating husbands with genital warts were numerous._

"How bad?" She said, more out of curiosity than concern.

The woman downed the alcohol in mere seconds and looked up tearfully at Geo's face. She raised one flimsy hand and pointed behind her. Clary brushed her dark curls out of her eyes and watched a handsome man revelling in the attentions' of two young girls, one of them being the same obtuse redhead that had been whining about her services. She already exchanged partners as quickly as Clary changed money.

"He hasn't even noticed me," the blonde continued bawling, slumping further on the tabletop. Her mascara was beginning to run beneath her eyes, staining her cheeks with thick black streamlines. She began to blab away to the bartender, dumping all her worries on the woman before her. "It's my night off, you see, and I've been having a rough week, so I thought we'd go out for date night. He told me he was sick and couldn't make it, so I decided I'd just come out for a drink by myself and call my friends up later. And then I find him slobbering over those girls on the floor once I walk through the door. I've already sent him several texts to see if he would do something, but he just looked at the caller I.D and put it back in his pocket."

The immortal bartender shook her head solemnly, refilling her glass for her. "Well, men are pigs," she said harshly, feeling pity for the poor girl before her. "They only have two things on their mind; money and sex. Believe me, I know."

More tears spilled down her cheeks as Clary's words hit home. _Maybe I should have been a bit more gentle,_ she thought as she reached up to massage her neck. Another customer caught her attention and she began to make his order, pulling out an assortment of drinks as she mixed it all together on a bed of ice.

"I wish he knew how shameful I feel," the woman cried clutching her glass in her hand. "I wish he knew how much he hurt me. How much he's hurting me right now."

Clary bit the inside of her cheeks and looked up at the girl before her. She could feel a spark of vengeance, her essence - light up within the wretched soul laid before her. She continued shaking and mixing the drink together, pouring the contents in a cocktail glass and handing it over to the man who ordered it. She set her sights back on the blonde, whose cheeks were beginning to flare up.

Clary reached out for the blonde's glass and pulled it towards her. "What's your name?"

The blonde eyed the glass with dazed eyes. "Mia. Mia Wayne."

Clary continued pouring the drink, eyeing up the blonde with blank eyes. "Drink up." The blonde nodded gratefully and reached for the glass, throwing the drink down her throat.

A small, sincere smile made it's way onto Clary's face as she focused her attentions on the girl. With her God's Eye, Clary used a partial amount of her power to watch a rerun of the woman's primal memories, watching it play like a documentary. She watched the memories of her as a young girl, her household suffering from financial and domestic issues. Teenaged Mia had it a bit easier, with a few choice friends coming in to support her during her trials. Her current job was crappy, but she was doing the best she could with what she had. And then the boyfriend came along, an angel sent from above in Mia's eyes; spoiling her and taking her out to fancy dinners, always showing her off at every opportunity. For once the girl felt proud of herself. But as their relationship progressed, the boyfriend started to slack off, showing the telltale signs of boredom towards the blonde. She'd tried to ignore them, persuading herself that he was just tired from work, but she could only tell that lie to herself in the mirror for so long.

Clary blinked her eyes and the memories stopped rushing into her head. This poor girl had been cursed with more bad luck than most, and Clary felt sympathetic for the poor girl. She admired the girl for all her sacrifices she made in life, the trials she'd overcome to get where she was right now.

She looked back at Mia and stared her straight in the eye. "Now, you listen here," she said calmly and soothingly. "My advice for you tonight is to go home. If that man over there doesn't have the decency to be upfront with you, then you clearly deserve a better man than that walking piece of trash. You're strong already, so this accident tonight will just build-up on that foundation already.

The blonde looked at Clary with complete trust and wiped away her tears. "Really?" she sniffed, dabbing away with the napkin.

Clary nodded, feeling warmth pool in the pit of her stomach."Wholeheartedly."

She stood up off her barstool and smiled apologetically at Clary. "Sorry for dumping my troubles on you."

Geo smirked. "Don't worry. Now scatter, I've work to do."

 _And a soul to adjust._

* * *

Clary finished her shift a little earlier, heading into the staff bathroom to fix her appearance. By godlike standards, she was striking. Not quite on the same beauty playing field as the Goddess of Beauty herself or the Queen of Heaven, but they were noticeable enough, giving her doll-like qualities; red hair with the odd copper highlights down the bottom, set in loose curls and shiny as ever. Emerald eyes set in a heart-shaped face, with a dainty nose and full lips that were either pursed in annoyance, or slanted up in amusement, but still desirable to the minds of mortal men. Her build was a small, petite, but her form was filling and she had definite curves that made taller women envy her.

Clary fluffed her hair over her shoulders and tugged her maroon leather jacket over her shoulders. Fashion trends had evolved many times over the centuries. Some decades she was bewildered and disgusted by the scraps they wore, other years she would be envious and would often sneak down to the world below to update her wardrobe. Underneath she wore a high-collar black chiffon top paired with form-fitting denim jeans and studded Jeffrey Campbell boots, adding a bit of glitz and glam to her appearance.

She tapped away on the mirror, muttering a Greek incantation beneath her breath. The surface of the mirror fogged up as an image of the boy who wounded Mia's confidence and emotional well-being. He was seated in a booth, surrounded on either side by giggling women who were dressed no better than prostitutes.

"Okay, Nemesis," she mumbled to herself, shrugging her shoulder and shaking her hands together. "Let's see what he's made of."

Her God's Eye came into action, but rather than previewing his past like she had with Mia, she looked at his soul altogether. Her eyes narrowed and her lips turned into a scowl as she recognised Tyche's golden blessing stamped into his soul. The Goddess of Fortune and Luck was fickle in her blessings, often choosing people at random and sprinkling too much 'good luck' on their thread of life.

"Useless," Clary hissed. "That woman needs to be under lock and key."

She reached out to the mirror, tapping her fingers against the mirror. She watched a few of his primal memories from his timeline, scowling as she saw how arrogant and prideful the boy had become over time. Everything came easy to this kid; his talents, his skills, his accomplishments were all thanks to the golden blessing. He knew not the meaning of hard work, having everything delivered to him on a gold platter with diamond flakes sprinkled on top.

"Let's see how much of your accomplishments are really yours," she muttered.

Ripples echoed through the image, and she watched as Tyche's blessing dulled in brightness, tempered by Clary's abilities as Goddess of Divine Retribution. Once the blessing had all but disappeared from his soul, she collapsed her God's Eye ability and watched the vision through normal eyes. The guy was shaking his head, a little dizzy from what had occurred.

Clary rubbed her hands together gleefully, her eyes lighting up with excitement. She hadn't had this much fun in the last few decades. She watched the effects of her tampering with his blessing begin to slowly take effect. His drink slipped out of his fingers as it clashed onto the table, with His raging temper turned the girls attentions away from him as they recognised what a complete imbecile he was, and one by one they fluttered away during the following minutes, leaving the guy alone with nothing but his bruised ego.

"Hmm… not enough," Clary mused out loud.

She watched the man stand up and shuffle out of the booth, picking up a napkin off the table. She spotted both his phone and wallet peeking out from his pockets and grinned. She reached out and snapped her fingers, watching the objects fly out and land on the floor. The man growled and reached over…

Clary tilted her head on an angle as she watched the procession, awaiting for the inevitable. _Cute butt though, arrogant prick…_

 ** _RRRRRRRIIIPPP!_**

Satisfied, Clary brushed her hand across the mirror, collapsing the vision and returning it to normal. She closed her eyes and let her senses range out, listening to a grown man cry out a string of obscenities. A wild laugh bubbled to the surface and she smiled, letting out a few sparks from her fingertips. _That should even the odds now,_ she thought. She checked herself one final time, brushed her hair away from her face and waltzed out the bathroom, debating on whether to head back to the motherland to sleep at one of the ancient sanctuaries or go find some other poor schmuck who was kicked out of heaven to stay with for the night.

* * *

Romance hung in the air tonight.

Couples dallied about on the cobblestone streets, listening to the beautiful pieces played by French buskers. Women stood outside on the balconies of their apartments, looking down at their lovers who serenaded them from below with flowers, while others walked the streets hand-in-hand with their significant other, swooning delightfully as they breathed in the cold misty midnight air. Late-night restaurants flung their doors wide open, preparing only the best for the customers. The sweet scent of freshly baked baguettes and fondue wavered about in the air, capturing the attentions of all those who dared to pass any open door.

Of course, couples weren't the only ones flocking the streets that night. Groups of giggling teens raced along the cobblestones, playing beneath the Eiffel Tower in a game of tag. Men stood on the bridge, sipping away at their wine bottles as they recounted past heartbreaks from the sincerity of their soul. Families danced to the music played by street musicians, laughing merrily and without pretence. Churchly folk walked past the brilliant architecture of Notre Dame de Paris, offering up prayers of thanks and wishing for blessings on those less fortunate. Scooters and cars raced along the road, adding their own musical note to the symphony of the night.

Paris, as always, was accommodating to every whim and desire that Jace had.

From the heavens, one could see a lone figure lying on the marble stone that made the famous _Arc de Triomphe,_ holding a delicate white rose in his fingertips. He was dressed in white v-neck, paired with a dark blue blazer, dark fitting trousers and leather timbalands. He had a grey scarf wrapped loosely around his neck, giving him all the appeal of a model. He had a golden halo for hair, and golden eyes that were as bedazzling as the rising sun. Sharp angles and full lips made the shape of his face, and his body was a masterpiece, beautiful beyond description.

Of course, what else would you expect from the consort of Aphrodite.

Jace twirled the stem between his fingers, his eyes roaming the skies above him. The Pleiades shone brightly that night, casting a glow upon the mortal realm below. He held the nose to his lips, the velvet petals brushing up against his lips. Desire ran through his veins. He was drowning in the need to feel, to touch, to tempt, to fall into a state of agonising pleasure.

The golden blonde pulled the rose away from him, closing his eyes as he let his sense range out. He could hear all the naughty little desires within the mortals below, their dark fantasies singing from their hearts. He sighed deeply.

 _I need a woman._

 _Now._

The God of Desire sat up and stood atop the Arc, stretching out his muscles within his back. He set his sights around the city of Paris, using his God's Eye to seek out his latest conquest for the night.

 _Ring-ring! Ring-ring!_

Jace reached into his back pocket and pulled out his phone, sparing a passing glance at the caller I.D. " _Bonsoir."_

" _So you are in France after all._ "

The blonde rolled his eyes as he inched forward. He stood on the edge of the Arc, his toes just hanging over the edge of the stone. "Does it matter?"

" _Not really. You were always partial to the so-called city of love. A lot of easy targets there, if I remember correctly."_

Jace couldn't deny his claim. The French were frank and straightforward, but the nation had advanced on the sexual frontier. The women of Europe were a different breed altogether, as if each individual had been made for the act of loving. They were beautiful in their own rights, classy and at the height of the fashion industry. But what made them all the more tantalising for the God of Desire was their native tongue; French, Spanish, Italian, Greek – these languages had a poetic flow. Even the other immortals fell prey to the seductive power their languages held.

"True," Jace admitted, peering down below. His senses were still reaching out as he searched for potentials, double-checking that none of them had his bloodline. Eros had fathered many children in the past, and the last thing he wanted to do was shack up with a descendant. "Was there a reason why you called me, Sebastian?"

" _Nope. I had a bet with one of the other guys about which country you were hitting up tonight, so I just needed confirmation on the winner._ "

Jace rolled his eyes and ended the call. He placed the phone back in his pocket and held his head up, feeling the breeze toss his hair about. He heard a light giggle rise from the bottom and looked below. There was a couple standing below, wrapped in one another's arms. The woman was pretty enough, with a flamboyant personality and caramel brown locks twisted in a fish plait. She was slender, tall and graceful like a gazelle. There was an air of innocence about her, a pure sensation about her.

 _She'll do._

Jace crouched down on the edge and looked at her partner, pushing his blonde hair off his head. His eyes glowed fiercely and he whispered a string of words. He picked up the rose that he had abandoned and held it to his lips, blowing gently across the petals. The rose had a slight shimmer to it, with glitter dusted across the top. Jace looked back down at he girl below, arching an eyebrow as he stared below.

 _Weaken her mind,_ he thought darkly.

 _Let her be overridden with unspeakable desire._

 _Let her wild fantasies consume her._

 _Let her come to me._

He dropped the rose, watching it drift down to the feet of the couple. The man discarded the flower, keeping his attentions on the woman at hand. He watched with fervent desire as the girl picked up the rose, searching for the source of its appearance. He initiated his God's Eye and watched as her aura became tempered with fire and gold. He closed his eyes and watched with dark satisfaction as she began to push her partner away, lying to him and saying that she needed to return home. The man was confused but let her go nonetheless. The woman skipped away, running across the paved roads as she rushed away to her car. The man headed away in another direction, his head swimming in confusion over the girl's change in behaviour.

Jace smiled. He knew that the poor guy would end with a broken heart some day because of tonight, but he couldn't help it. That was just the kind of man he was. He helped the mortals give in to temptation, and he found pleasure in stirring up a bit of a storm in their love life. History had painted him as naïve god who simply used his powers on any random stranger, but the truth was he picked his targets carefully before manipulating them. He had a kinder aspect to himself, but majority of the time he just acted out on his lust-ridden needs.

The Greek deity unfurled his massive wings, a pearlescent white that faded out to gold near the primary and secondary feathers. They were impressive, strong and powerful. He leapt high into the sky, slicing his wings through the night air.

The car twisted and turned down the road, and he watched from the air as it travelled towards the Seine. He quickly touched down onto the ground and dispersed his wings, watching them fade away from existence. He stood by a tall willow, looking out across the river.

A few mortals passed him, giving him appreciative glances as they studied his build. Jace couldn't blame them. Who wouldn't want to admire his glorious build?

The car parked up a few feet away from him and the woman exited her car, her face marked with one of confusion and need. Her eyes were searching for someone and finally landed on him.

The golden-haired god leaned leisurely against the trunk, looking at the woman with an intense gaze. "Are you looking for me _?_ " he whispered leisurely.

The woman blushed and looked around, holding the rose firmly in her hand. On closer inspection, Jace could see that she had a bigger bust than he initially thought. She swept the strays off her face and looked back shyly at Jace.

"I-I'm not sure," she stuttered, making her way towards the blonde. "I think I am."

Jace smirked, his gaze filled with hunger. He rolled off the trunk, his movements as sinuous as a cat. He moved towards her, emitting a sensation of warmth and comfort towards the girl. The woman looked at him apprehensively as he came within reach and he gazed into her caramel-brown eyes.

He held up her hand with the rose and brushed his lips across the back of knuckles. Heat spiked up from the woman's body, and he watched as she licked her lips. He leaned in towards her and whispered in her ear.

"Let me take you away, _ma Cherie,_ " he uttered amorously, brushing his lips against her beating pulse. "Let me give you a night to remember."

The woman melted at his words and she gripped his hand tightly as Eros pressed his lips against hers, securing his conquest for the night.


	2. Chapter 2: Emperor of Dreams

_"_ _We are such stuff as our dreams are made of;_

 _And our little life is rounded_

 _With a sleep"_

 **William Shakespeare**

 **Chapter 2: Emperor of the Dreamland**

In the end, Clary ended up sleeping on the shorelines of the island of Cyprus, stringing up a hammock between two trees and enjoying the warm climate, listening to the sea crawl back and forth. She was on one of the more deserted beaches, and had casted a glamour to make it appear as if there was a steep cliff-face a little further back to prevent the mortals from disrupting her. There were plenty other places that Clary could have gone to stay at for the night, but she didn't want to jump so suddenly into their lives without so much as a warning. Plus, she didn't know where everyone was; things had changed so much over the years, and the likelihood of the Olympians being where she had left them last were very slim.

Clary snuggled deeper into the hammock, swaying gently in the air with her jacket substituting for a pillow. It wasn't the best sleeping arrangement, but presently it was the most comfortable. She kicked her shoes off and slung them underneath, watching them sink into the sand. The sky was murky, with the moon poking through between the fractures. She'd never been a night owl, neither did she enjoy the daytime. She preferred the hours of the twilight zone, the times when the sun rose and died each and every day. It was more exciting, to watch the world be bathed in showers of fire and gold before drowning in the depths of lavenders and blues.

 _Wonder what the rest are doing,_ Clary thought nostalgically, twirling a curl around her fingers. For the past century, Clary had slept inside her palace up in the heavens, leaving the inhabitants above and below to do as they please. The last she remembered before she went to sleep was the big ruckus in the heavens, a result of the sex god playing around with someone's offspring and whatnot.

The redhead sighed, her good mood disappearing down the drain as her thoughts turned to the God of Desire. Jace was the driving force behind those who invoked her presence; he broke hearts left and right, playing with the mortal women and toying about with their relationships. His kids were even worse, taking after their father as they broke hearts relentlessly. Their beauty was a gift that they manipulated to their advantage, hiding their cruel notions within their souls. They were devious heartbreakers who walked upon the backs of gullible hard-workers'.

Her interactions with the god of desire were far and few in between. He liked to stir her up with his relentless flirtatious advances; she liked to rile him up and make him fall six feet below the level of ecstasy he so desperately depended upon. He destroyed the mortal's perception of love; she showed mercy upon their broken souls and delivered justice and revenge against those they were too weak to fight. He was cocky, manipulative, and at the lowest of times, even immature.

"Oh my god," Clary moaned, clawing at the skin beneath her eyes. Even when he wasn't physically present she still found herself thinking about that player. "Just let me sleep already."

 _I can help with that._

A calm sensation came over Clary, lulling her into a complete state of relaxation. Her muscles loosened up, and her mind grew foggy as unconsciousness took over her. Her eyes closed shut and darkness clouded her mind, replaced immediately by a different scenery altogether.

The mortals had formulated theories over the years, believing that dreams were messages that had been composed from the deep recesses of the mind, a way of your subconscious reaching out to you to tell you something of great importance. In reality, the dreams were made from Greek deities called the _Oneroi_ – the tribe of Hypnos. They were the dream-weavers, the ones who made the dreams what they were. Each of the _oneroi_ held dominion over a specific aspect of the dream, from the landscape to the realistic sensation of the dream.

Clary looked around her; the hammock had been converted into an ivory chaise lounge seat, the beachfront transformed into a hidden oasis like a scene from the Arabian Nights. Lilies floated over the surface of the water, beckoning like diamonds in the dark. The oasis was populated by very few people, all of them roaming around the place while others basked under the palm trees, lost in this temporary world's tropical pleasures. A roman aqueduct could be seen in the distance, with dim lights twinkling from a city from long ago. Palm trees swayed in the breeze while golden stars peered down from violet and magenta skies, a color that could only ever be achieved in a dream.

"Is this satisfactory for you?"

The redhead sat up off the chaise and looked about for the source of the voice. She smirked as she saw a dark-haired man approach her. "Definitely better than that casino you put me in last time."

Out of all the gods, Clary found Sebastian to be the more approachable one of the Pantheon. Many immortals were fearful of the god who could mimic any male from their appearance and abilities down to their personality and behavioral patterns - a fact that Clary found to hypocritical when quite a few deities could change their appearance to look like another. Around the other Olympians, Sebastian would mimic a less-threatening appearance, but he always kept his real face on whenever she was around. And why shouldn't he? He had a dark, dangerous beauty about him, the kind that the mortals had trouble describing because there was no word that could truly encompass his looks. He was dashing, tall and handsome with a slender, yet muscular frame. Dark hair was pushed back off his face, revealing dark eyes and high cheekbones. He always had a crooked grin on his face, the kind that made one suspect there was some secret dancing on the edge of his lips.

"How's the King of Dream's doing?" Clary asked inquisitively, stretching out her arms above her.

The immortal rolled his eyes and waved his hand. An identical chaise like the one Clary was on materialized before her, and Sebastian hopped onto the furniture with an exhilarated sigh escaping his lips. "Things are so-so," he said coyly. "It's been a while since I saw you last. About a hundred and thirteen years, I believe."

"Geez." The redhead's eyes danced casually up the length of his body. The lower half of his body was wrapped in a Aztec-printed sarong that was knotted at the front, laying low on his hips and exposing his naked, muscular torso for all to see. "Where are the rest of your clothes, Morpheus?"

The dark-haired man grinned wryly and looked at Clary through half-lidded eyes. His gaze was suggestive of something else that Clary had no desire to delve into. "My world darling, my rules. I can dress however I want in this realm. You're looking good though."

Clary rolled her eyes and slumped further in the chair, a big soft cream pillow providing a soft cushion for her head. "Please, I haven't changed a bit. I'm still the same height and I still have freckles. The only thing that has changed is that my wings are bigger."

"Really?" Sebastian said curiously. "Do I get to see them?"

"No," Clary said petulantly. "Special occasions and desperate times of need only."

A select few of the immortals were part of what was called the Winged Court - a panel of grecian deities who had wings attached to their form. Clary was one of the few, along with her brother Jonathan in the Underworld, Sebastian, Jace, and few others that had such appendages featured on their bodies.

Sebastian pouted moodily and sank deeper into the seat. "So who woke you up?"

The red-haired goddess groaned. "Her royal highness. She woke me up a few days ago and told me to hit the ground while she celebrates her anniversary. Anything big happen while I was asleep?"

Sebastian shrugged his shoulders. "Not much, really. Some of the mighty Olympians have been bickering among themselves again, but that's to be expected. Magnus's protégé Tessa's been going through some trouble though."

Clary's ears perked up at this information. Tessa Gray had been a particular favorite of Clary's. The woman was brought up and raised by Catarina, and had been granted longevity by the patron goddess of witches and magic. For the last few centuries, Tessa had been under the care of Magnus Bane, supporting him during his frequent visits to earth, and expanding her knowledge of things below. Though Clary was older than her by a number of centuries, there was a certain spirit about the brunette that humbled the vengeful goddess. It was as if her very soul had been plucked from a bygone era, a time when the world was young and kind. The two had become fast friends, and more often than not, Clary found herself visiting the fellow mortal for advice on worldly matters.

"What kind of trouble?" Clary asked worryingly.

Sebastian waved his hand lazily in the air. "Don't worry, it's not the life-threatening kind."

Clary relaxed in the chair and gazed up at the sky. "Is she being bullied by the other guys? Cos I swear I'll give them all a good beating—"

"Relax, Clary," Sebastian chuckled. "Honestly, you continue to astound me each and every time."

"Hmph."

Sebastian kicked one leg over the other and gazed up at the false sky above. "She has two suitors pining after, from what Magnus has told me. Both of them happen to be demigods by some mere coincidence."

"You and I both know that events like that aren't mere coincidences," Clary corrected, curling her hair around her finger. "I bet the Fates had this planned out a long time ago…" Clary huffed and turned about on her side to face the King of Dreams. "Does it look like it'll end bad on her end?"

Sebastian shrugged. "Too early to tell. Nothing's concrete yet."

"Well, let me know if something bad happens to her, okay?" the redhead pleaded.

"I like Tessa, and I don't want anything bad to happen to her."

Sebastian's smirk softened. Contrary to what the other immortals thought, Clarissa had a soft side that very few people had the chance to see. Despite her fierce personality and the hidden anger that often lashed out, the redhead could be surprisingly gentle when it comes the people she considered close to her heart.

It was a certain trait that Sebastian found to be… intoxicating, to say the least.

"Is that it?' Clary said airily. "What, no declarations of war, no attempted assassinations on the top dogs, no revenge plots against them, all of that stuff. Are you telling me it was _that_ boring while I was asleep?"

"A lot of things happened while you were asleep. I just didn't give a toss because they were all meaningless. For example, golden child Jace just spent—"

"Stop." Clary's hand was right up against his face, clamped down over his mouth. He had no idea when she left her seat, but he'd certainly forgotten how fast she was, and how deep her hatred was for the God of Desire. Emerald eyes burned furiously, and Sebastian swore she saw a glimmer of her true form.

He voice dropped to a low, seductive alto that caressed Sebastian's ears. "Eros is a taboo topic. We don't talk about him. We don't think about him. We don't say anything about him, you hear me?"

Sebastian rolled his dark eyes as she removed her hand away from his face. "Why do you hate him so much, huh? What, did he spit on one of your shrines or something?"

The redhead paced around the man's chaise, throwing her hands up in the air frantically. "I had so many mortals falling at my feet back in Rome, and not because they were worshipping me. No, it was because bloody Eros and his lot pranced about the streets spraying their dust of broken hearts—"

 _Dust of broken hearts?_ Sebastian mused humorously. _Wait until Jace get's a load of that._

"And I had so many girls and boys all broken-hearted and begging me just for a little bit of revenge. Not that I'm complaining, but the fact remains that because Eros couldn't keep it in his pants every time he went to visit, I had girls left and right broken-hearted and pregnant. And they all said the same thing; ' _O Nemesis, a beautiful man with a golden mane and a countenance brighter than the sun has shattered my future. Wilt thou bestow upon this man the cruelest of curses to soothe my open wounds.' 'O Nemesis, a babelicious blonde with gold eyes stole my virginity and now I will surely be shamed forever.' 'Dear God Almighty, please for the love of skittles give this blonde guy a bloody slap in the balls for stringing me along and making me look like a cheating slag at my ball, and ruining my chances of getting together with my crush.'_ " Clary's gaze heated up and her hands curled up into tightened fists. "Do you know how tiresome it is when you get all these requests and you can't even beat up the man responsible for them?"

"Well, surely there must be something good you like about him."

Clary's eyes narrowed in contemplation. _"_ Sure, he stays around a bit in the kid's life during infancy, but his kids all take after their dad. They just go around, flirting around and playing the 'poor, innocent' archetype when in reality they're just as much as a player as their daddy-o."

"That's a little harsh, wouldn't you say? They're just kids."

"Well, did I mention how much the player likes to tease? He's got a sadistic sense of humor, that bastard. And he flirts with 99% of the women in Olympus, that idiot. He even had the audacity to try and get me into bed after I dealt with the aftermath of his one night stand with a poor Russian princess."

Sebastian chuckled and grinned crookedly as Clary continued to pace around him. "I flirt with you all the time, Red."

The Goddess of Vengeance blushed and patted Sebastian endearingly on the cheek. "Well, you're nice, and I actually like you as a person, unlike Mr. Fancy Pants up top. Besides, you actually have a higher level of intelligence, and you don't make decisions based on your crotch."

"Careful now," Sebastian said teasingly. "Don't catch him hearing you badmouth him."

" _Pffftttt._ What's he gonna do? He hates my guts as much as I hate his now. He's got no reason to pay attention to me."

Sebastian huffed. As Clary made to go past him for the twelfth time he caught ahold of her arm and pulled her down onto him. Her cheeks swelled up as she fell against his chest, her body curling up on contact. She was warm and soft, two rare aspects that Sebastian rarely came across in his world, let alone combined. He brushed her hair back off her face, peering up at her sweet face into her stubborn eyes. "I brought you here so you could relax and _sleep_ ," he reminded her. "Not so you could complain about life up top."

"…Sorry," Clary mumbled under her breath. She folded her arms over Sebastian's chest and propped her chin up top. "How much time have I got left in here before it's sunrise?"

Sebastian propped one arm beneath his head and gazed thoughtfully up into the sky. "You've got plenty of time. Time runs faster in the realm of dreams, remember?"

The redhead rolled her eyes and flicked his hair out of his eyes. "Yeah, well, you'd think after a century or so of sleeping you'd be more energized for the day," she scoffed sarcastically.

The pair stayed in their positions, the slow pace of their breathing synchronizing and moving in time with one another. He brought a hand up to smooth her red locks out of her eyes, losing himself in their depths. Sebastian hadn't seen the redhead in such a long time. When immortals chose to fall into a deep slumber as she did, not even the Tribe of Hypnos could disturb them in their dreams. For them, it was a hibernation period, a time where they rejuvenated their godly essences up in the palaces upon Mount Olympus.

To Sebastian's great remorse, the redhead disentangled her legs from between his own and hopped back onto her own chaise, snuggling down with the pillow under her head.

"It's nice to see you again though, Sebastian," she said tiredly, sifting her fingers through the quartz sand. "I needed to see a friendly face."

"My pleasure, Clarissa. Now, for the last time, catch some sleep will you?" Sebastian teased. He waved his hand and a warm breeze came at his beckoning, tossing Clary's red curls loosely around her face and easing her into sleep's embrace. Her eyes fluttered closed, and a satisfying sigh escaped her lips.

The moment the goddess of vengeance had fallen soundly into sleep's embrace, Sebastian eased himself up off the chaise. The redhead had no idea of the power she had over him, the urges that were old as time itself rising from within him. He padded lightly over to the redhead and ghosted his fingers against her jawline. She was a rare kind of beauty, the simple kind that people found their minds lingering on in the wake of night. She enjoyed the simple pleasures of life.

The old god shuddered breathlessly. Even though he was an immortal who had been around for many eons, he was still a man at the very basis of his being. And as a man he had needs, cravings, desires, just as much as the race of humanity.

 _Let it lie, Morpheus,_ he whispered to himself. _You can wait a little longer._

Sebastian padded away lightly from the redhead, leaving her to enjoy her moments of bliss. His eyes turned to the False City in the distance and his eyes narrowed to slits.

Time for him to work.

A gust of wind spun the quartz sand around him, blurring his image from the other souls in the area. All too soon, the sand dropped down and he was dressed in a silver suit, a teal shirt adorning his body. His hair danced lightly around his face as his wings manifested, regal and powerful in both appearance and flight. They were dark, a stormy grey with shots of silver running through his primary feathers. The simple-minded mortals who were present in the dreamland stared up at the man with admiration and adoration, their eyes sparkling at the sight of this ethereal being before them. Their feeble minds would register his presence as a figure of their imagination - an illusion conjured by the mind.

Sebastian turned his eyes back on the sleeping immortal, a soft, gentle smile dancing on his lips. "Till tomorrow, red," he whispered softly.

* * *

 _ **Second instalment of my new story. To all you Clace/Clebastian/TMI/TID fans, I hope that this piques your interests. Still working on good old Art of War, so I won't forget about that.**_

 _ **Till the morrow, ladies and gentlemen, fellow shadow hunters and downworlders.**_

 ** _~Violentkitsune_**


	3. Chapter 3: Reunion

**Chapter 3: Reunion**

France was bathed in shrouds of sun and mist, the rooftops peeking out from beneath the fog towards the heavens. Birds floated gently on the morning air before they came to perch on the chimneys, soaking in the warmth from the sky. Somewhere up the street, Stevie Wonder drifted through the airwaves, echoing down the street through the open window of an apartment.

The sunlight streamed in through the gaps in the curtain, splaying their golden rays across the floor. Clothes lay strewn around the bed in casual disarray, a reminder of the events from last night. The apartment was tastefully decorated, and typical of a woman fresh out of university.

The golden-haired immortal arose from the bed, leaving the cute mortal woman to sleep away under the covers. He glided his skin down her naked spine, feeling the softness of her skin beneath his fingertips. He smirked at the memory of her cries from the night before, the brief moments of shyness when his hands roamed her body. She'd been a quick learner though, adopting his nurturing caresses and responding with her own strokes against his form.

He picked up his garments, quietly dressing himself in the shadows that played with the thin ribbons of sunlight in the room. He moved around to the woman's bedside and brushed her hair back, trailing his fingers down the curve of her neck.

"You were quite the maiden," he whispered amusedly. "Hopefully these newly acquired skills you've received will make things far more better in the future."

The blonde god moved through the apartment, catching a glimpse of the personal details that made the girl who she was. He caught sight of a kitten calendar, and cast his eyes across the dates that had been crossed off. "Huh. Go figure - looks like Hera's anniversary is over. Guess we can get back to business up there."

He stood before the apartment door, with a coat-rack hanging on the back, and post-it notes reminding his unconscious bed-buddy of numerous things stuck all over the wood. Jace brought his hand up to his lips and blew gently over his open palm. Golden light shone faintly in the form of the omega symbol beneath the surface of his skin. The symbol was imprinted on all the Greek Olympians and granted them access to Mount Olympus, no matter where their location was so long as there was a door before them. In short, it was like a universal key.

Jace ghosted his hand over the doorknob and watched the gaps in the doorframe shine brilliantly for a split second.

"Un…deux…trois." Jace spun the door handle counter-clockwise and felt a strong breeze blast him in the face. He crossed the threshold and entered the holy grounds of Mount Olympus. "Home time."

Jace found himself standing inside his home, a stunning temple full of grandeur and sophisticated elegance. The temple had several rooms, with the main being the atrium where his pedestal and shrine were erected. The hall had a glass skylight that stretched over the entire space, raining light from above into the air below. The room smelt like honey and spring, of sizzling afternoons spent by the riverside and rose petals drifting on the breeze, of many things that gave off a sensation of being in love.

 _Love… the biggest joke of all._ Jace found it ironic that he would be cast in this life of his as the immortal patron of love, when he himself went about dallying in the lives of mortals and playing about with their own love life. Lust, he could understand. Lust was a physical desire that consumed one's soul from the inside out, a carnal desire that could never fully be satiated. Lust could be fleeting, wild, and a wicked temptation. Love was too fickle a thing to grasp, nothing but a fanciful dream that annoyed the blonde god. He found it to be very sentimental, the idea of love. It was selfish, the idea of claiming one companion for the rest of one's life.

Jace moved out of his temple at a leisurely pace, walking past the ivory carvings, and the ivory fountain with gold and rose quartz veins running through the statue. A few nymphs were gliding about his halls, dressed in flowing dresses as they went about their duties. Even the most powerful gods had a few helpers on the side.

"Lord Eros," a few cloud nymphs cooed as he passed them by.

"Ladies." Jace sent them a wicked grin and he could feel their pulses racing as if it were his own. The blonde turned down a corner and sped out into the open streets of the city of Olympus.

Olympus was full of grandeur and elegance; the buildings were constructed out of white marble, and had a summer-like appeal to it. There were temples, where the gods and goddesses would frequent to bless their diligent followers. Fountains shimmered at different levels of the mountain in the rising sun; sculptures that bore a remarkable resemblance to their models were set up at different intervals, all in various poses ranging from sensual to all-powerful. All the great cities within the Grecian era were fashioned after the heavenly city, built to imitate the grand architecture that was theirs alone to achieve.

Like every city, Olympus had it's own perks and outlets. Aphrodite ran a fashion outlet entitled Reflection – one of the biggest beauty and fashion outlet's known amongst all the immortals and Greek descendants; Hephaestus ran several workshops and worked closely with the goddess of wisdom on all things engineering and technological, leading the frontier on such complicated advancements.

Jace moved down the streets, passing the many humans made immortal and minor deities on the cobblestone. He made for The Hearth in the plaza, passing through the open doors of the monstrous building. A large bonfire blazed in the center of the establishment, spewing forth sparks of red and gold that reached up twenty feet towards the open sun window. The bonfire was tailored to reflect the emotions of Hestia's, warming up or cooling down depending on her emotional status. Today the fire was warm like a southerly breeze in summer, sending the odd tingle up and down one's spine. The Hearth was a popular haunt amongst the deities, with it's chimeric cross between modern and Grecian architecture. Ground floor was built to imitate an expanded food court that had been upgraded with several chaise lounges and sofa's set up around the floor. A large all-you-can-eat buffet was set up at the back of the hall, based closely by the bar. The upper levels were decorated with tapestries of impeccable design, and furnished into a casino for the mischievous souls who liked to gamble in their spare times.

Jace combed his way through the chairs, spotting his intended conversationalist downing a goblet of wine down his throat. "A little early in the morning, don't you think?"

The man placed his sparkling goblet on the table and looked up at Jace with glittering eyes. "Without me, there would be no fun in this world. I'm entitled to take my own share whenever I please."

Magnus Bane, the biggest drama queen and patron of the arts, was one of Jace's favorite immortals to talk to. For a god who drank a good ten hours of the day, the immortal could still slaughter a man with a flick of his wrist and still be in good shape. He had a quick wit that could easily shut anyone down in a matter of seconds, a characteristic that Jace found greatly appealing. Jace liked to shoot forth his own sarcastic comments, and he found it endearing when Magnus would reply with thinly veiled insults.

Jace sat down on one of the single seats and threw his arms over the back of the seat opposite to Magnus. The wine god had an exotic look about him, with golden skin and slanted eyes that flicked up in the corner. Amber yellow eyes stared back beneath half-lidded eyelids that appeared to be dusted with bronze. Being a patron of the arts, the immortal was never found in the same outfit twice, experimenting with a myriad of clothes to expand his wardrobe choices. Today's edition featured flashy Italian leather shoes that pointed near the end, tight-fitting pants, an over-sized midnight blue v-neck that stopped just above his sternum, paired with a jacket that had gold and silver embroidered along the seams, and of course, fingerless gloves the color of maroon skies.

Magnus's hair was a statement of it's own, with purple and blue streaks thrown in amongst the black locks, and a phoenix feather dangling from one ear. Factor the glitter that had been tossed in, and one could say that his hair was masquerading as the infinite cosmos, looking like a starry sky of its own.

"So," Magnus said while he eyed up the nymphs around him, "Which city did you plunder for your sexual needs?"

"Paris," Jace replied honestly. "And what a conquest that girl was. Innocent like a doe, and sweet as a peach."

Magnus whistled low. "Have to be careful in Paris. A lot of scandals go down in that city. The number of demigods parading unknowingly about the streets is numerous. Didn't shack up with anyone's child, did you?"

"Course not," the blonde defended. "I always check."

Both immortals leaned back in their seats, watching those around them move to and fro. They were both handsome beings, catching the wandering eyes of many that visited the Hearth. While both reveled in the attention that they received, Magnus's reception of their looks was more tolerable than grateful. He didn't mind being the eye candy of every waking being in the room, but there were times when he wished he could charge them extra for attempting to have eye-sex with him. Jace on the other hand, threw out suggestive glances towards his admirers, biting his lip and staring at the pretty girls until they submitted and shivered with delight.

"If you keep doing that, I'll never be able to go out with you again."

"I'm just returning the favor there, Dionysus. Gotta give the women some attention."

"What you're doing is raising their hopes up of getting into bed with you," Magnus chastised, grabbing the newspaper that was spread out on the table before him. A collection of newspapers from all the major cities he frequented were laid before him, and he grabbed the Chicago edition for the day. "And frankly, I think you need to keep your libido in check, blondie. You're supposed to help people _find_ love, not get them hung up over your behind."

"I will do whatever I please," Jace responded, throwing his rendition of the man's early words at him. "Besides, love is a just a fancy way of saying 'good-bye freedom.'"

"Yes, well, 'freedom' like the one you think about will only entertain you for so long." Magnus flipped through the pages of his paper, reading through the gossip coulomn. "And one day, it's going to snag it's talons around you neck and you'll find yourself whistling another tune."

"If that's what the fates have in store for me, then I'm just gonna have to keep running from that future. I won't be tamed by any woman, be she the most innocent maiden or a seductive beauty like no other."

"Say that now blondie. No one can outrun the fates."

"I beg to differ." Jace dropped his gaze and looked skeptically at the goblet in front of the wine god. "Don't I get a glass?"

"You have legs and a mouth, pretty boy," Magnus said teasingly, flipping one corner of the paper down to look at Jace's face. "Go put them to good use and get yourself a drink of your own."

"But you can just make it appear out of thin air. Why do I have to get up myself?"

"I just make the alcohol, Jace. That doesn't come with a free glass to hold it. Now stop being lazy and go get it."

The golden-haired god frowned and pushed himself off the seat. "Meanie," he mumbled petulantly.

"You'll thank me for it, I promise."

Jace rolled his eyes and sauntered through the tables, winding his way up to the bar at the end of the room. At the bar was a tall woman, early twenties with pale blonde hair running over her shoulder in a loose braid. Her body was encased in a delightful summer dress made out of a blush pink chiffon material, with a flowing shirt and peter pan collar. She had a belt braided from gold leather cinched around her waist to define her figure more, and long, creamy legs that were dressed up with strappy stilettos.

The blonde grinned at the woman before him, and strode up silently behind her. He didn't need to see the face to know that it was the goddess of fortune. Jace wrapped his arms around the woman before him from behind, enjoying the short gasp that escaped her lips. "It's been a while, hasn't it Kaelie?"

The woman raised one hand up to massage the back of Jace's neck, sending shivers down his spine. "About ten days, I believe," she replied in a sultry soprano. "Fancy seeing you here so quickly."

"Well I had to make sure my guys were running everything smoothly up here," Jace retorted innocently, bringing his hands down to the side of the woman's waist. "And there were a few people that I had to visit."

Kaelie was a beautiful woman, with the kind of beauty that made one think of spring. The immortal spun around in his arms and dragged her hand playfully up and down the blonde's chest. Her face was fine, with charming eyes bluer than the waters of the Caribbean.

She kicked one leg up behind her whilst leaning in Jace's embrace. "It's been lonely without you," she pouted playfully.

"You know what the mortals' say," Jace sighed fancifully. "Too much of a good thing will eventually lead to a bad thing. Have to sample it one bit at a time."

"Even so, it would be nice if we could catch up again some time."

Jace felt himself twitch in his pants below. Kaelie, a.k.a Tyche - was one of the women he thoroughly enjoyed being with; her technique and skills were enviable in the bedroom, and she had a generous nature that she owed to her status as the figure 'Lady Luck'.

Jace pulled his arms off the girl and stood beside her at the bar. One of the bartenders came up to take his order. "Long Island with a shot of nectar to go."

"Right away, sir." The bartender had cropped hair the color of lavender, with eerie blue eyes.

Jace turned his attentions back to his newfound companion and leaned against the bar. Kaelie had a cheeky grin on her face, the kind that one has when they know they've been caught in the act. "What?"  
"Nothing," she said sweetly. "Just a little bored. Watching the mortals isn't as fun as it used to be. Their lives are so predictable now; nothing compared to the golden age. You have to admit their lives back then provided far better entertainment than today."

The god of desire shrugged his shoulders. He never really paid attention to the events going on down below. Jace preferred to come and go as he pleased, doing whatever he'd been called on and then leaving to have some fun of his own. Although, looking back he had to admit that he played quite a few interesting roles in the lives of the mortals of old.

"Well, there's a lot of new toys down below," the blonde contributed. "Technology has expanded a great deal over the last thousand years."

"You know how I am, Jace. Toys don't exactly do much for me, no matter how innovative or popular they are. Of course, exceptions can be made, but still. Good old-fashioned soap opera's and tragedies really pull at my heartstring."

The immortal exhaled tiredly. The immortals loved it when they watched the mortals suffer below them, dipping a hand every so often to stir up some trouble in the realm below. "We do so love playing about with the lives of those ignorant immortals, don't we?"

"Of course. What else are we to do with our powers? Not many of us can say that we have other uses for our abilities. Look at me." Kaelie held her palm out and manifested a weak orb of light like a dialed-down sun, glowing dimly and giving off a strong scent that was akin to sunflowers. "Aside from the super strength, the pretty dove wings, and granting good fortune, I can't really do much."

"Nonsense. You can do plenty."

Kaelie grinned cheekily and tapped Jace on the nose. "The bedroom does not count, my dear lord of desire. Can't exactly put that on a resume, can I?"

One of the bartenders delivered Kaelie's order, and she smiled and blew away a kiss. Sparks could be seen flying from the tips of her fingers as she wiggled her nails at him, no doubt granting him payment with her own brand of power. "Its' raining good luck all day on you, buddy." The bartender blushed and smiled shyly before giving Jace his own order.

"Thanks man," Jace said. He took a sip of his beverage, feeling it shoot through his entire being like a wave of ice, followed immediately by fire and lightning. The pair heard a sudden commotion go on behind them, and watched as several individuals began to move. "Let me guess," Jace began cockily, "it's her royal highness the Queen of the Heavens?"

The goddess tugged on a stray curl as she turned her eyes behind them. Jace watched her eyes narrow with annoyance. "My cue to leave." She leaned in close to Jace and placed a chaste kiss on the corner of his lips. "So sorry to cut things short, Jace. I forgot about _that_ one waking up, and I don't want to endure another lecture from her."

Jace downed the rest of his beverage and watched the pale blonde sashay away. "See you around, Kaelie."

"You know where to find me though," she called out behind her, walking with all the grace of a model. " Come visit when you can." The blonde sighed deeply as the goddess disappeared, an afterimage of her wings fading behind her.

He moved away from his seat and saw a small group assemble around Magnus. All of them were paying vast attention to a petite redhead nestled beside the wine god, smiling away as she bantered back and forth with her audience. A few passer-by's steered clear of the table, intimidated by the redhead that shot them a few dark glares.

He tilted his head as he studied the woman who suddenly became the object of everyone's conversation. _That face looks familiar…_ He caught sight of the woman that twisted to face each person, and his curiosity piqued when recognition flooded his mind.

 _Well I'll be damned._

He traversed his way back to the corner, watching as one by one the redhead's companions left her to her own devices. She wore a loose olive-green shirt with a round-neck, paired with snug maroon pants and heavy ankle boots. Her curls were tamed and snagged in a high ponytail, with strays dancing around her face.

 _Nemesis is awake again._

Jace moved so that he was coming up behind her, and pressed his finger to his lips when Magnus caught sight of him. The glittery man rolled his eyes and continued to distract the redhead while he moved behind the girl.

He reached out in front of her face and covered her eyes. The girl stiffened beneath his touch. "Did you miss me?"

Jace propped his chin on the crown of her head, smirking away while she tried to pry away his palms. "Magnus, tell the sex fiend to get his filthy hands off my body please."

"Be nice, Clary. Jace, do as she says."

"You're such a meanie," Jace whispered petulantly in her ear. Her skin heated up dangerously and he pulled his hands away as if they were being scalded. His good mood vanished and he grimaced at the little woman. "Nasty little witch," he scolded.

Clary angled her head slightly and wrinkled her nose whilst emitting a smug attitude. "Keep your hands to yourself, man-whore."

"Rude." He puckered his lips and blew an air-kiss to her, watching the redhead roll her eyes and lean further away from him as he took his seat on the sofa. "Why don't you stop with the act, Clary? Love and hate are two powerful, passionate emotions, so it's only fair we get together, what with being the personification of those feelings."

"Ha! Even if you were blind, limping, castrated and thrown into a monastery, I still wouldn't go anywhere near you." Clary sniffed haughtily.

He couldn't help but watch her raise her head whilst struggling to keep her voice at a lower level. She was quick to fire back at his remarks, trying to one-up every innuendo with an insult of her own. No one else amongst the pantheon was as dedicated as she was towards ruining his pride, neither were they so adverse towards his advances. Their little game had gone on for many centuries, and he still marveled at the fact that she hadn't exhausted her vault of insults. Every time he saw her, she had fresh ammo just waiting to be used against him.

 _Then again, we are immortal._

"I've missed your horrid sense of fashion," he said in a saccharine tone.

"And I wish you'd disappear."

"That expression of yours is very unbecoming of your features. Perhaps you should go catch up on more of your beauty sleep."

"I'll run you with a blade myself and feed you to my brother's pet."

"Could you save the lover's spat for behind closed doors?" Magnus interrupted smoothly. "You're gathering quite a crowd around here."

Both figures cast their eyes about them. True to Magnus's words, quite a few people had turned their heads in their general direction, hiding behind magazines and slurping from empty cups while listening on their conversation.

"I forgot how much of a gossip central this place was," Clary huffed. She waved over a waitress who brought her a bowl of fruit salad. She flicked two Drachma's out of her pocket and passed them over to the waitress. "Nothing stays a secret in Olympus, does it?"

"Just threaten someone with a curse, and they'll keep quiet," Magnus said in an enlightened tone. "I ensure you that it works."

"You're hopeless."

"Correction: 'magnificent'."

Clary rolled her eyes and began scarfing her food down her throat. Unlike the other Olympians, who were full of grace and elegance, lady revenge had a raw edge to her being. Appearance was somewhere in the middle of her list of priorities, and she was never afraid to speak her mind on all things.

Jace watched the redhead stand up after a few minutes had passed, setting the now empty bowl on the table and looked at Magnus with impatient eyes. "How long are you going to be?"

"Another ten minutes." Magnus peered over the top of his paper with mischievous eyes, flashing them briefly in Jace's direction before settling them back on Clary's petite body. "Getting anxious already?"

"Well I want to go visit Tessa, and I don't know where she's moved. You're always talking to her, so I figured you could take me to go see her. Besides," she said finally, "You need to catch me up on everything. Sebastian was too busy in La La Land to remember everything up here, so I need you to get me up to speed."

The older immortal ran his fingers through his hair and threw the redhead a charming smile. "Meet you at the Library of Congress?"

"Fine."

Both men watched as the redhead cleaned up after herself. "What. No good-bye for me?" Jace teased light-heartedly.

Clary huffed and placed a calm, award-winning smile on her face. "You're right. I'm being cold to you aren't I?"

Suddenly Jace tensed up as she slowly inched her way towards him, bracing one arm over the back of the chair. On closer inspection, he could see the fullness of her lips, mesmerized by her as she inched closer and closer to her face. One hand lazily dragged its way up along the length of his arm, swirling about as she dragged her finger up the side of his neck. He felt the collective heartbeats within the room hitch and sped up as they watched the scene unfold before their very eyes. Feeling came back to his hands and he wrapped one hand around the curve of her hip, pulling her in closer to him…

"Eros," she whispered seductively in her ear. "If you _ever_ try to seduce me again, I will curse you so that you will never be able to bed another woman ever again."

The redhead pushed Jace away in a harsh manner, losing the sweet attitude and returning back to her sour personality. She swept his hand off her body and stood up, striding away rather forcefully.

Magnus chuckled underneath his breath, watching the blonde man nurse his wounded pride. "Never saw that coming, did you?"

"Shut up, Maggie," Jace replied brusquely. He sat up again and watched the redhead disappear. If he was surprised by her sudden change in tactics, he had a hard time showing it. Jace watched as she moved past the window, her hair bouncing along as she moved about. _That was…_

 _Surprisingly hot._

The blonde recalled the heat that came from her body. His fingers had memorized the curve of her hip, itching to discover more of the foreign body that he had never touched in all his time. He cocked his head to the side as an idea struck forth at the front of his brain.

Magnus recognized the look that came across the blonde's face and shook his head dismissively. "No. Bad idea, blondie. Don't even think about going anywhere near her."

"What are you talking about?" Jace said innocently.

"Don't play coy here, Jace. I know that gaze in your eyes. She'll eat you alive and spit you out one limb at a time." Magnus placed the paper down in front of him and gazed imploringly at the blonde. "For the sake of everyone in Olympus, don't do anything stupid like trying to get into bed with her. She's too much for you, blondie."

"Are you saying that I have no chance in hell with her?" Jace challenged. "Magnus, you do remember who I am, right? 'God of love and sexual desire' ring a bell?"

The tanned god rolled his eyes and refilled his goblet with a wave of his hand. He brought it up to his lips and paused to look back warily at the blonde. "Well, don't say I didn't warn you."

* * *

 _ **Well there you have it guys. The next instalment in my fiction. I'm gonna turn things up a notch in the next few chapters. In the meantime I'm gonna go work on my Art of War  story. Thank's to all the new followers and what not :D**_

 _ **-Violentkitsune**_


	4. Chapter 4: Saint of New York

_**So this one's alive now.**_

 _ **Sorry for the wait, but life hasn't exactly been the best lately. Pressure hits hard when goals aren't achieved by the deadline you set, and when the whole moves and everyone leaves you behind, you tend to get a lot more moody. Volunteering can only fill the gap for so long before you realise how behind you are in life, especially when you're not progressing anywhere.**_

 _ **Thankfully, I've got this to keep me going. And my parents who still tolerate me and my dad who's gracious enough to give me a bit of free will to do whatever. We've got big changes going on - I turned 19, got a few mates leaving on mission's, squad dates to get to, a bomb weekend coming up next month where i get to play princess for the whole night and have a sleepover, and of course, our family moving house.**_

 _ **Thank god for friends who don't drink and can drive. Otherwise how on earth would i have a social life?**_

 _ **Fun Fact: I have been fully converted to Game of Thrones. Also, I asdlkjb love Brienne, my giant angel. Literally she is the only character I would play in the entire show because she. is. badass. Who needs beauty when you can go about with a sword slaying the world one enemy at a time.**_

 _ **Peace out. Talk to me whenever**_

 _ **~Violentkitsune**_

* * *

 **Chapter 3: Saint of New York**

.

"Honestly, the humans could take notes from that show because the dynamics of the relationships threaded throughout it are exquisite. Makes me think the standards we have for entertainment need to be re-evaluated. I don't know who I enjoy more, Tyrion Lannister or Varys. I mean, both have impeccable character development and—"

"Magnus, I'm not interested in the plot summary of your beloved T.V show."

"You should reconsider your opinion once I finish."

Clary rolled her eyes and continued moving beside the tanned man with starry skies for hair. They moved through the streets of New York, taking in the hustle and bustle of the huge city before them. After he came to Washington to pick her up, they travelled over to New York and began their journey to go and visit Magnus's protégée. New York had changed over the years, Clary noted. The city was far busier that it was in its' early days, and it was heavily populated with at least a million mortals, each of them sharing a different ethical background.

"Could you slow down a bit?" Clary mumbled. For every step of Magnus's, Clary had to match with two of her own to keep up, and it was a taxing process on the woman's petite body.

"Just move faster."

"Or you could take my advice and slow down."

"I like the fast pace. Gives the illusion that time actually passes for beings like us."

Clary rolled her eyes and sped up to catch up with the older man. She had a messenger bag swinging back and forth against her side, the leather strap frayed and worn. Inside she had a few books that Tessa had lent her prior to her hibernation period. Clary was always too busy judging the situations put before her, closing a case one after the other, and could never find the time to immerse herself in the human realm. She was always grateful for the novels that the younger woman gave her, entranced by the stories that captured the brunette's attentions.

"How's my brother doing? Have you heard anything concerning him?"

Magnus peeked out of the corner of his eye at the redhead. "You're asking _me_?" The colorful man spun around on the spot and gestured to himself. "Do I look like I go knocking on death's door for a social visit?"

Clary blinked. "Your sarcasm? Not appreciated right now."

"You're very welcome." Magnus spun back around, leading Clary across the street. "Jonathan's being the same sadistic, lazy, morbid, sarcastic carefree devil as always. The scoundrel never comes to any of my parties."

"Well can you blame him?" Clary defended. "Look at what he has to deal with. Jonathan's the hand of the King of the Underworld. He's practically the whole delivery and administration system in the Underworld. Can you blame him for preferring sleep over social events on his nights off?"

"That is what causes the rumors, dear – the fact that he never comes out to anything. Do you have any idea how wild the gossip has escalated about that boy?"

The redhead stayed silent and bit her lip in defiance. She knew very well the imaginings of her fellow cohort assembled on Olympus. Her family wasn't the most popular amongst the immortals. Both her parents were primordial elemental gods who held dominion over darker aspects, which frightened a lot of the Olympians. Not even Zeus dared to challenge her mother and father. She and her brother had been claimed a few decades after the war with the Titans; her older brother Jonathan was chosen to serve Hades in the Underworld, while she sat up in the heavens at the foot of the Olympians.

Clary knew Magnus meant well by his question. Unlike the others, Magnus wasn't so quick to judge Jonathan, and had met her blond-haired sibling on several accounts. Behind the sadistic aura, there was a soft heart buried within his chest. It just took a little longer to find it.

"I'm aware of all the rumours circulating," Clary said, tugging on the strap of her bag. "Anyone who dares to slander my brother's name has got something coming for them."

"Darling, that kind of language could get you knocked out with a lightning bolt," Magnus warned her.

The pair stopped at a set of zebra stripes crossing over the road, waiting for the pedestrian lights to turn green. Clary looked up at the sky, watching the smoky pillars rising from the buildings far away in the industry district. Several sites were under construction down the street, and there were a number of delivery trucks that were zip-lining from store to store to do their early morning rounds as quickly as possible.

"How far is it to Tessa's?" Clary demanded impatiently, her eyes dancing over everything in sight.

"Another ten minutes from here," Magnus said obviously. "But before we head off, we need to get her some stuff from this bakery here. She loves the pastries and there's this brownie that not even Hestia or Athena could replicate with their kitchen skills."

"Careful, Mags. Don't want _her_ to hear that."

"Please. She despises the very thought of me, which is ironic considering she sprang from the head o—"

"Enough, Magnus."

The wine god rolled his eyes playfully and pulled the petite redhead along with him towards the bakery. A bright sign was embossed above the bakery, entitled _Baking Delights._ There was a decent amount of customers bustling inside, and the shop's exterior looked quaint yet memorable, with its brick walls and open windows to harness the limited sunlight that danced off the reflective skyscrapers from afar. There were a few iron-wrought tables and chairs set up inside, and soft mellow music in another language could be heard from outside.

The moment she and Magnus stepped across the threshold, Clary instantaneously took a liking to the place. The workers were jovial in their doings, and serviced the customers with bright smiles and cheerful words. She could sense the amount of hard work that the original owners had put into this place, the time and energy invested into making this place a thriving business. This was a venue deserving of good fortune. _Maybe I'll come back again to make business better for them,_ she thought, taking note of this bakery in the back of her mind.

The line was short, with numerous people standing idly about as they took great care in choosing what they wanted. Magnus pulled her in beside him and eyed up the pastry and sweets on display with a ravenous look in his eyes.

"Do you actually have money to pay for this?" Clary asked shrewdly.

The taller man looked down at Clary with contempt on his face. "Are you implying that I'm broke?"

"Well, with your choice of lifestyle, you can't say that I'm not a little worried we'll get browns at the counter."

"Not to worry." Magnus pulled out a velvet wallet with the slogan _B*tch Better Have my Money_ sewn across the front in bold golden thread, and began rifling through its contents. "Peso's… Euro's…here we go. American currency here." He fished out two twenty-dollar bills' and waved it in front of Clary as proof of evidence. "That'll teach you for accusing me of being a broke bastard."

They reached the counter and ordered a variety of foods they knew would cater to Tessa's taste-buds, along with a mouth-watering chocolate croissant laced with a light dusting of icing sugar, and a basic slice of chocolate mud cake for the taller immortal. Even Clary fished out a few dollars and bought herself of large chocolate croissant, marveling at the warmth and the savory smell emanating from it.

The two of them made their way to the doors and slipped out after each other, juggling the paper bags between them. Magnus stumbled forward suddenly mid-sentence, nearly dropping his wallet in the process. Someone behind him had collided against his figure in a hurry to get into the store.

"Dammit – sorry about that!"

Clary could see the quiet storm brewing behind Magnus's amber eyes and her guards rose up. Magnus had two titles; the Wine God and the God of Madness. Like the different drunken states, Magnus too shared two main dominant personality types. Most of the time he was happy and cheerful, the life and soul of the party everywhere he went. On the other hand, he could be a raging maniac with extreme anger issues that overloaded and freaked the life out of all around them. And, more often than not, one could find in the Morning Messenger quite a few abnormal stories surrounding the wine god after his escapades.

 _Play nice,_ she willed mentally, _play nice, play nice._

He angled his torso back a bit and looked behind Clary to see who had done the damage. His eyes widened a fraction and she could see something before it flashed away behind a wave of pleasantries. "It's fine," he said airily. "No harm, no foul."

"All the same, I'm still really sorry," the voice continued. The voice was jittery but masculine, full of both insecurity and shyness. Clary turned over her shoulder to see the nervous man and nearly dropped her jaw in awe.

The guy was beautiful. Not feminine beautiful – drop dead, 'make you want to curl your toes in ecstasy' beautiful. Tall with long graceful limbs that could be attributed to a dancer, dark hair like a starless sky, with equally breath-taking blue eyes that were almost brighter than an ocean. He had all his good looks hidden beneath plain grey jeans and a black sweater that had seen better days, with his hair tousled in a mess.

 _I can see why Magnus forgave him so quickly,_ she thought teasingly, a growing smirk teasing her lips. _He's definite eye-candy, and totally his type._

"It's fine," Clary repeated for the wine god, fixing the young man with a calming smile. "No need to lay the apologies on real thick there."

He shifted about awkwardly behind them and cast his eyes down. His self-esteem was somewhat lacking, like he wasn't use to people paying attention. His eyes widened as he saw the bag spilled on the ground. In a few movements he swept them up and held his arms out with their food in them.

"I'm really, really sorry," he pleaded again, giving it back to them. "Geez, I hope nothing's ruine—"

"Don't sweat it," Magnus said in a dreamy tone. Clary dug her elbow in her companion's ribs and smiled sweetly at the guy.

The guy rubbed his neck and smiled awkwardly, biting his lip all the while. He waved them off and slipped inside the bakery with a face redder than a blushing rose in bloom.

"He's cute," Magnus observed.

The redhead rolled her eyes and spun him around. "No. Not today, Magnus," she groaned, dragging him by the elbow. "We are not staying behind so you can get the guy's name. No."

"Oh come on," he pleaded half-heartedly, staring back at the doors of the bakery. She could already see the gears turning in his head. "It'll just take me five minutes—"

"No."

"—a little chit-chat here and there—"

"No."

"I'll seal the deal—"

"Magnus," Clary huffed. She grasped him by both arms and stared up at him with determined green eyes. "For the last time, no – not today. You can find another playmate another time. We are _going_ to see Tessa, and we are not going to do anything else until I get there."

Her buddy huffed resignedly and slouched forward. "Party pooper."

"Besides, I thought you were with that blonde. What was her name again? Cecilia? Cameron?"

"Camille," Magnus corrected her, leaning against her body. "Alas, she had feelings for another so I thought I'd be charitable and let her admirer have his share of fond memories with her. We parted ways eighteen years ago, but we'll find each other again sometime."

"Hmm. I never figured you'd be the charitable one."

"Rude."

* * *

.

Tessa's place was different from what Clary expected.

Knowing the brunette and her taste in all things human, she would've figure that the girl would go for a place in one of the more historical buildings along the streets of busy Brooklyn. Heck, for all she knew Tessa could turn an empty clock-tower into a fantastic abode to dwell in. She was class and elegance, everything that Clary strived to be as an immortal. Tessa respected the old arts and great minds like Einstein and Mozart, but was still open to the new things that modern society generated over time.

But an underground laboratory?

Clary nearly dropped her jaw as Magnus swung open the gate barred outside the entrance to the old abandoned train station. "She lives in _there?_ " She said incredulously. The exterior of the place was nothing exciting to write home about; colorful graffiti tagged the old brick walls, and there were a few scorch marks near the bottom of the building.

"It looks better on the inside, I promise," Magnus guaranteed. He pressed the buzzer outside the heavy metal door and leaned in close to the intercom built into the old wall. "Tessa? Are you there?"

 _Bzzz. "Who's – oops! Who's calling?"_

"The one and only," he said cockily. "Open up. I've bought thee sustenance."

The door buzzed and Magnus pulled it wide open for the pair of them. He shut the door behind them and led Clary down a set of iron stairs that rattled beneath their weight. She cast her eyes about at the basement and widened them in surprise.

Unlike the stuffy, messy, flooded space she imagined the interior of it all went against her expectations. The roof was high and the stairs zipped along the wall, where it transitioned from cement to brick layering. The floor was engraved with carvings of Hecate's symbol and littered with neatly stacked books along the floor. One of the walls had a bookshelf that curved along the brick boundary, burdened with journals, encyclopedias' and candles. A projector was set up near the other end on a coffee table, with a laptop and DVD player set up next to it. Three blackboards sat next to it with a million and one words and diagrams drawn all over it in different colored chalk. Cords ran over the place and a large stereo kit was set up in one of the other corners, echoing the tones of a sweet and upbeat Korean song.

Clary stumbled down the last steps and marveled at the large and spacious room. Despite it's lack of elegance, there was something that screamed 'Tessa'. Clary could see she'd been working on revitalizing parts of the lab to make it unique to her tastebuds; tasteful lamps were embedded at regular intervals, and modern spotlights had been fitted into the roof to cast a warm glow over the room. A few things were still underway, like the small kitchen up the stairwell in the corner, and there were plenty more shelves being added along the height of the walls. In the center of the room a long table had been placed with a chemistry set built on top, with a flask burning slowly over a Bunsen burner.

"Watch out!"

Clary ducked as a trio of books came flying towards her face, heading for the room at the top of the other set of stairs. A catwalk ran parallel across the wall, shuddering with the added weight on its frame.

Down the bottom a woman with thick brown hair pulled in a loose bun skidded across the floor, balancing books and a teacup with one arm while she waved her hand through the air. Her jacket fluttered loosely on her arms while she raced about in a knee-length dress, stockings and ballet flats. A few mops headed back to their cage where they squeezed themselves dry in the sink attached to the wall.

"Oops! Too long." The brunette raced to the table with her right arm still burdened, dumping everything none too gently onto the wood. She switched off the burner and unhooked the tube linking it to the gas tank underneath it. "Please don't leak, please don't leak, please don't leak."

"Whatcha making there, Tess?"

"Basic cleaning product. First year university chemistry experiment," she answered, waving her hands over the steaming flask. Her English accent was still strong. "You won't believe how many unnecessary steps the institution has added to such a basic chemical test." Tessa turned around to face the oncoming duo and widened her gaze at the redhead goddess. "Nemesis?"

"Surprise!" Clary transferred everything to her left arm and jumped over the railing, missing the last twenty steps altogether and landing soundly on her feet without any injury. The long-lived mortal woman rushed towards her with a cheerful smile on her face. Both collided in a happy embrace, with Tessa swinging the redhead around in her arms.

"You're awake," she cried.

"I'm awake," Clary cheered. "And we brought food."

"Nice." Tessa pulled back while Clary handed her the paper bag.

"The redhead's missed you quite a lot, Tessa," Magnus added, standing near the shelves. "Is this my volume of Shakespeare's early works?"

"Yes," Tessa corrected in a stern tone. "Someone has to look after all your things when you go gallivanting across the world."

"My heart bleeds from your harsh words," he said mockingly.

"Forget him," Clary said. "He's moping because I stopped him from getting a boy's number back at the bakery."  
She rolled her eyes in mock surprise. Tessa had kind gray eyes that had seen the world in all manner of states, from times of war and segregation, to times when humanity reveled in their accomplishments. She snuck one elbow with hers and smiled warmly at the little goddess. "Let's go talk, shall we? I haven't had a girl's chat in a very long time. At least not since Catarina decided to go sleep for a few months."

"Really?" From Clary's view, it wasn't common for the patron of magical arts and the likes to go sleep. For as long as she knew her Hecate had always been among the mortals, working from one location to another. She never liked sitting back like their other immortals and preferred to use her gifts for things other than playing god. "How come?"

"I'll explain that in better detail some other time. Right now, I want to eat."

.

.

Clary had forgotten how vibrant Tessa was.

Behind the formalities and the sense of propriety she held herself with, Tessa Gray was in all honesty, a cool chick.

She was a well-educated, intelligent woman who knew the difference between sharing her theories and flaunting her abundant knowledge in the face of others. She was three hundred years old and looked no older than twenty-seven at the worst.

Tessa was a pacifist by nature, and refused to indulge herself in violent combat unless it was the last resort. She studied magic and focused on the neutral branches of elemental and spell-casting. She had a giving heart and forgiving nature. It was no wonder why she had people flocking to her like a lighthouse in the dark. She was a genuinely kind person. Not even the other deities dared to mess around with her string of fate.

Although that may be accredited to the fact that she had Lady Revenge, the Wine God, and Witch Patron baring their fangs and claws at anybody that dared to fool around with her lifeline.

"And you wouldn't believe what I had to put up with from this guy while you were gone," she continued. "Everyday he would swing by telling me to come out with him, 'be my buddy', all of that chit-chat."

"You needed it," Magnus argued back. The Wine god tossed a crystal ball in the air, watching the lights refract through the substance. "Lord knows how long you stay buried amongst your books."

"It is not a crime to spend quality time between the pages of a good novel," the redhead defended. "Which reminds me…" She sifted through the bag she brought in and pulled out the three books Tessa had loaned her a little over a century ago. "These are yours."

" _Little Women_ and _Hamlet_ ," Tessa said fondly. She held them briefly to her chest with a whimsical smile on her face. "But I gave these to you to keep."

"Yeah, well… I don't exactly have room in my 'mansion' above," Clary said in a bittersweet tone. "Besides they're part of your collection, not mine. Might as well return them to their rightful owner."

Tessa set them down on the coffee table beside her sofa and leaned back. Her room was a little larger than the average high-school classroom, with windows overseeing the entire floor down below. The room had been repainted a warm coral pink, with an entire wall dedicated to paper works and photos she'd taken over the years. There was a Japanese screen that blocked off the pullout couch around the corner for privacy, while warm spotlights poured down upon the trio. She'd set up a nice living suite, with matching furniture and plenty of cushions on the couches. Tessa still owned an apartment up the road (Clary had swooned with relief for the woman), but because of her work at the central university campus, she spent more time down here working up a storm on both her magic and lab skills.

"Is there anything you need?" Clary asked her. "You know I can always lend a helping hand around if you need it."

"I'm fine, really. Shouldn't I be the one asking you that though, since you just woke up from a long rest?"

The redhead let her hand flutter lazily in the air. "I've got a job downtown as a bartender. Besides, I'm sure I'll find a place to perch."

"Still, I don't like the idea of you wandering about—" Her sentence was cut off by a loud ringing on her person. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a phone. Clary took note of how her eyes lit up and her lips quirked at the corners before looking at the two of them. "Sorry, I'll be right back. I really need to take this."

"She seems happier," Clary noted, watching the brunette head out onto the catwalk. "I haven't seen her this happy since London."

Magnus purred in agreement. "She's finally settled down. London was a dark time for her so she's been floating around these last few decades. Since she came back to New York, things have been easing up on her. Tessa's been getting back into her rhythm."

"Speaking of which," Clary curled her legs underneath her on the couch and straightened up her body. She narrowed her eyes at Magnus shrewdly, eying him up. "I heard that a few people interested in her."

"Define 'interested'."

The redheaded goddess rolled her eyes. "You know what I mean, Magnus."

The tanned wine god popped his mouth in an 'o' and flicked his eyes over to her. "You're talking about the bird and the puppy."

 _Bird and puppy? What the hell…_ Clary tilted her head. "What do you mean bird and puppy?"

The Wine god balanced the crystal ball on the tip of his middle finger up above him. The inside of the crystal was instantly flooded with purple mist that filled the entire interior. "Well, one of them reminds me of a nightingale, and the other looks like a husky. Especially the eyes."

"Have you met them already?" She said stubbornly.

He nodded. "Bright young chaps. Polar opposites. One's aspiring to become a big screen composer like Hans Zimmer and whatnot; the other's just doing a bit of everything at the university."

Clary slumped down and pouted her lips moodily. She pressed both arms on her hips and grunted. Before another word could leave her mouth she felt a sharp burning sensation, as if someone had pierced a hot poker in between her shoulder blades. She winced and growled low in her chest. _Just when things were starting to get going…_

"Summoning?" Magnus guessed, reading the sudden change in her body language. She nodded and winced as she pushed her weight onto her arms and flicked her legs out onto the floor. "Who from?"

"No idea," she groaned, arching her shoulders back. The pain kept persisting in the centre of her back. Unlike the rest of the immortals, who received little love taps or warm fuzzies when they were being called on, she would feel sharp pinpricks that grew in intensity depending on the rage of those invoking her. Sometimes it was just a light flick behind the ear; other times it felt like her body had been dumped in a pool of ice.

"If I'm not back in the next hour, send my bag back up to my place," she said in a depressed tone. She couldn't help it when she was summoned. The moment she was called, her mood went from one hundred to zero flat out. Her worshippers and victim's emotions affected the way she behaved. She nearly collided with Tessa on the way out, just as she was ending a call.

"Where are you going?" She asked worriedly, grasping the buzzing redhead by the arms. "What happened to catching up and all?"

"I'm off to answer a prayer," she said moodily. Her eyes brightened up as she wrapped one arm behind Tessa'a head. "You and I are having a girl's night out next week. We've still got a whole lot to talk about, Miss Gray." Clary walked backwards along the catwalk and pressed her palms together in front of her. "I haven't got a phone yet, so just burn an offering to me for when you're free, 'kay?"

* * *

.

After spending the last few hours at the university, Jace decided it was time to leave his feeding grounds and peruse the streets for other prey. University students' could only do so much to sate his needs.

Jace didn't necessarily need sex in order to thrive – it simply added a momentary boost to his power levels. Most of the time he would visit different cities, altering his appearance to fit the intended crowd and toy around with their minds. Some he pushed to the brink of uncontrollable lust, others he merely broke their hearts or forced them into a fit of jealousy. It all depended on how he felt.

The happy blonde slipped on a pair of ray-bans and smirked at the small crowd gathered as he exited the campus. It was all too easy; the women too eager to be near him. He waved them off as he skipped through traffic to the other side of the road.

"Out of the way, please!"

Jace strayed to the side as he let an ignorant mortal girl push past him. She rushed ahead without so much as a backward glance, speeding through the crowd. If it weren't for the good mood he was in, he would've made her drop then and there—

 _Wait._

Jace's eyes were drawn to flaming red hair bouncing along the other side of the road, moving faster than the human eye could see. Clarissa strode through the crowds like they were nothing but wisps of smoke, her hair a beacon for all to see.

Jace braced his arm up against the lamppost. He hadn't expected to see the redhead so soon, let alone in the same city. And yet here she was, unprotected and marching away among the mortals.

 _Where are you heading?_

As if sensing his presence she shot a suspicious look behind her, searching for the unseen. Jace's glamour was cast on pretty thickly, but he doubted it would stop her from seeing the real him. When she finally settled her eyes on him, he waved a hand in the air and bit down on his lower lip. If beauty was his armor, seduction was his prized weapon.

She waved back with one finger and continued onwards.

Jace was starting to get real annoyed with the redhead blowing her off. As entertaining as their banter was, it still didn't defeat the fact that she was rejecting him each and every time. All she had to do to heal his ego by admitting he was the man of her hot, sweaty dreams, and he'd be fine. Even the virgin huntress herself had admitted she'd relinquish her vows to him, had she been born a mere mortal. He wouldn't necessarily stop his banter with her, because how else was he going to enjoy life besides the sex and power play – but he would cut her a bit of slack every now and then.

Lies.

Feeling both particularly adventurous and rebellious, Jace decided to pursue the vengeful goddess to see what kind of reaction he could get from her.

.

.

This wasn't the first time Simon had gotten in a fight.

Being more on the gangly and less inclined towards football like every all-American teenager, he'd always been a target at some point in his life for the other egotistical males.

But it was the first time he'd been backed up in an alleyway in broad daylight.

He ducked the fist that came towards his face and sloppily pushed away his adversary, backing away against the dumpster behind him. It felt like freshman year all over again, when he'd get drafted out back after school to take on the school's big bad, glorified bully.

Simon looked at all four of them, his chest heaving up and down. They were all big, brawny, and determined to ridicule him and beat the living daylights out of his ass.

"Seriously though," Simon choked, "I've only got a twenty and a m-" cough-"-metro pass in my pocket. What do you want?"

"Not bad for a nerd," the biggest of the four growled. He was built heavily like a football player, with blonde highlights in his brown hair. "But you screwed up my chance at the fraternity, you sniveling brat. Your performance just cost me my chance of scoring with the big boys."

The wind got knocked out of Simon repeatedly. He had to give it to them for their persistence. His body sank sluggishly down onto the concrete, holding his stomach in to protect his vital organs.

"All this—" he wheezed, "—because I upstaged you? Geez, someone... needs to build—a bridge—and _get over it!_ "

Big blonde and brawny hoisted him off the ground and gripped him by his shoulders while streaks looked him square in the face. His buddies flanked either side of Simon and gripped his arms tightly to stop him from flailing about. The short of the four bombarded him with several blows to ribs and sent one kick to his junk.

Highlights picked up Simons glasses that had been knocked askew off his face and put them on his face. "Your eyes are so screwed up," he chortled. He ripped them off and dangled them in front of Simon's disgruntled face. "I think I might keep these as a souvenir."

Simon spat on the ground and looked up at the bully with bloody teeth. "Go to hell, nitwit."

The guy rolled his eyes and narrowed them as he looked at something around his neck. Simon's eyes widened as the guy ripped off his pendant with a sneer on his face. "I'll keep this religious trinket too," he mocked, swinging it back and forth. "It'll look good on my girl's neck."

Footsteps pattered down behind them, leading up to their scuffle. Highlights turned around just in time to see a raging redhead with scornful eyes sail through with a front kick to the guts. He collided against Simon and his buddies let them drop. While the redhead tackled the flanking abusers, Simon shoved the guy off him and wrenched his glasses from his grasp. As soon as he had them in hand he reached out and grabbed onto the leg of the nearest hulking mass of flesh and yanked hard. Down came the giant, smacking the side of his face on the ground

Simon quickly got up, wheezing the whole time and grabbed onto the dumpster for support. He shoved his glasses on and watched with absolute shock at the damage his rescuer had done.

Highlights – whose name was actually Ronnie, now that he remembered - was buried beneath the blonde linebacker, both unconscious and filthy in their clothes. The redhead was a young woman, petite and well dressed, probably late teens. She drove the bottom of her shoe onto the last guy's foot and smacked him away with the flat of her palm. Simon flinched as the guy went flying three metres away, slumping against the back wall into a crumpled heap. Her strength was monstrous, and she was dusting her hands off on her pants like it was a warm-up routine for cheer try-outs.

She spun around and sucked in her cheeks, looking up at him with omniscient emerald eyes. Pouted lips pursed themselves as she stared around her with relaxation on her face. "I think that went alright, don't you?"

His mouth was hanging open as she went around, using the toe of her boot to tuck the guys up on their backs. _Where the hell did she come from?_

"Y-you knocked a guy all t-the way to the wall," he stuttered.

She strode up to him and stared down at his attackers with a harsh glint in her eyes. The nameless woman looked back at Simon with pity and made a face. "That's gonna swell," she said. She dug into her back pocket and pulled out a handkerchief for him. Simon gratefully accepted it and wiped away at the blood sliding down his face. His face felt tender and bruised across every inch of skin, and unless he was mistaken, he'd chipped a tooth during his torture.

"Thanks," he groaned, holding his nose shut with the cloth. "I probably would've ended up going in the hospital if you hadn't come by."

Pretty redhead glanced disdainfully at his assailants. "I think you still do."

"Naww," Simon drawled, spitting out more blood. "I can handle it. Nothing's broken and I can still walk." He scanned the ground and spotted his pendant. "Found ya."

The pendant itself was nothing too fancy; a bronze circle as thick as a coin stamped with a griffin atop a spinning wheel, with apple branches surrounding the inner rims. The bronze coin had faded over the years, worn by the hands of time. However, his mother had been adamant about it's importance when she gave it to him. It was an heirloom his father's family had, dating back a few thousand years in the _Anno Domni_ period.

Simon looped his head through the chord and let the pendant drop in its resting place. He sighed gratefully and looked back at his guardian angel.

She was pulling back the eyelid off Ronnie's face.

"What _are_ you doing?"

The redhead carried on with her ministrations. "This guy looked familiar, so I wanted to see if he was what I thought he was." She stood back up and looked at Simon nonchalantly. Her emerald eyes fell on his pendant and her face seemed miffed by its presence. "Where did you get that?"

Simon shrugged. "Family heirloom," he said with a shrug, pulling back the handkerchief to see how much blood had soaked in. The flow seemed to be slowing down, but he wasn't taking any chances. He'd been low in iron since birth, thereby making him anemic by default.

She turned her gaze up to his face and softened her harsh looks. "Sorry – my name's Clary. I forgot to introduce myself."

"Simon," he replied, reaching out with the cleaner hand of the two. Clary shook it, and he was surprised by how strong her grip was. "Thanks for not letting me bleed out."

"Any time." A brief smile found it's way on her face and she led him out down the alleyway back towards civilization. She kept one hand on his arm as she steered him along the footpath, holding his bag in the other hand. She mumbled warnings when it seemed like he'd crash into other pedestrians, and took him to the closest cafe nearby. Inside Makonna, she half-carried him into a booth and sat him down.

"W-what are we doing here?" Simon gasped, coughing on his own bloody spittle.

"That rag in your hands has no hope of soaking any more blood. Also, I figure you could use a little sugar in your system before you go wherever." Clary raced up to the counter and barked out her orders to the barista's chatting idly away, calling them to attention with her presence. While she pulled out cash from her pocket, the workers gave her a bottle of water, and a large pre-made BLT sandwich. She strode over to the station and snagged several napkins on the way.

"Thanks." Simon reached for the napkins and wrapped the handkerchief in them before replacing it up his nose. When he was finally sure he wasn't losing any more blood, he pulled away and began wiping away at his face while holding the bottle to his cheeks. His cheeks were enflamed but as soon as that bottle made contact, his body temperature dropped a few degrees.

Clary dropped the items off in front of him and reached for the wrapped mess. "Make sure you eat all of this before you go anywhere, okay?" She ordered. "You've got a large fruit smoothie on the way, along with the boysenberry cheesecake slice."

The brunette was stunned by her open concern. The redhead looked down fondly at him like he was a wounded puppy that needed attention – both romantic and pitiful from his point of view.

"You don't have to do that," he argued. "I'm fine. Really."

She shook her head. "Not from where I'm standing."

Simon watched Clary slide into the booth and fold her arms expectantly across the tabletop. He squirmed under her gaze. "So – how well did you know those guys?"

The university student hunched over his bottle with a grim smile. "Came across those guys at the fraternity rush at our campus. Apparently I'm a legacy of sorts thanks to my mom who went to the sister sorority, so I got drafted into the big house. I made an impression on the big guys when I started singing out back with an audience to hear, which may or may not have resulted in a few of their girlfriends trying to get themselves hitched to me."

"So this was an act of jealousy? Just to secure their position in the social hierachy?"

"Also, I ended up them look like brain dead carcasses when they tried to cuss me out to make them look good in front of the frat leaders. Frat guys were impressed by my wit but they kicked those other guys out of the place. You know what they say - knowledge equals power."

Clary nodded in agreement and curled one hand into a fist. "Cowards. Too many guys today think with the wrong organ."

Simon raised one hand up in praise. "Preach."

"Will you press charges?" said Clary. "What happened is enough to charge them for assault. And with me being a witness, it should be no trouble processing the—"

The brunette shook his head nervously. "N-no, it's fine. I can deal with it." Clary arched an eyebrow suspiciously. "Usually I can dish it out better to them, but my body's still in shock from something earlier that happened this week. I swear I'm a better brawler than I look."

Clary's face was hesitant to believe him, sensing something off about his answer. "Are you sure? Absolutely sure?"

"Positive," Simon squeaked. Truthfully, he didn't want any more drama going on. Sending those guys would no doubt result in more eyes turning his way – last thing he needed was to become the latest feature of the rumor mill.

Her face was still hesitant to let the matter rest, but she didn't pursue the matter any further. "If you're confident about your decision, then we'll leave it at that. But just remember that I'll be there if you change your mind."

* * *

.

After seeing that boy off on the bus, Clary walked away with an odd sensation in her guts.

To think that after so many years, she'd came across a child bearing her emblem around his neck. She'd checked him out with her God's Eye and nearly cried in relief when she saw an ancient symbol etched onto his soul, faded due to many generations of separation from the original holder, but still prominent.

She ducked into the nearest stationary shop and ducked down the aisles. Pulling a pen down from the shelf, she scribbled down his name on the inside of her wrist. No wonder her summoning had been so painful. Once upon a time, her devout followers – those who were fervent believers, were blessed with her protection. If ever any of them were in extreme danger, their pain was her pain until their torture ended at her hand.

She added a little note down the bottom: _Four men. Follow up on them._

Hands braced either side of her down the empty aisle, and she shivered at the warm presence aligning itself behind her. "So you're into the submissive, geeky type, huh?"

"Fuck off, Eros." Clary ducked under his arms, ditching the pen on the shelf while breezing out of the shop, She smiled stiffly at the checkout lady, and turned her expression into a full snarl as she heard footsteps shadow her movements.

"I'm curious, Clarissa. I'd never have figured you for the boring, missionary position guy."

"Have you finally resorted to stalking now, sex fiend?" She remarked uncharitably. "What, no one good enough to make you feel better about yourself?"

Jace came around to her side and tucked his hands into his pockets, smirking away at the redhead's uncomfortable state. "I had my fill today, darling. I'm just curious to see what your schedule's like."

Clary rounded about and gazed threateningly up at her counterpart. Here was both the maker and destroyer of the bonds between individuals, and she was the servant that went about trying to piece the lives back together again. "What's it going to take to get you to leave me alone?"

"A kiss on the lips and a confession that I am the one and only man of your dreams."

"Not a chance."

"Then I shall be a thorn in your side, my lady," he whispered suavely, dancing his fingertips across her clavicle. She pushed his hand away and continued pressing forward with an angry aura about her. "Besides, I've frequented these streets many times. I'm practically the saving saint of his city, so you have no right to force me off these grounds."

"What on earth did these mortals do to deserve the plague you bring upon them?"

"Darling, the reason the humans are still repopulating the earth is because I'm the one that stirs the pot. No love, no mortals. No mortals, no believers – leaves the rest of us gods dwelling in the vast emptiness, doesn't it?"

"You're so full of it."

There was no way Jace was going to relent his chase. Clarissa's only hope was to endure his persistent presence and hope that something – or someone, would swing by and distract him from his goal of annoying her.

"Seriously though, that geek back there was a little on the scrawny side. And rather unimpressive."

She rolled her eyes at his attempt to insult her. Even if that boy didn't have any ties to her, she would never look at him in a romantic light. He was nice and cute like a little puppy. She preferred a man with an athletic build, dark hair, and even darker eyes.

Someone like Morpheus for example…

The immortal traipsed along the footpath, passing the alleyway from the skirmish with the boy. She had the imprints from the souls who attacked Simon, and there would be hell to pay when she went about her duties.

Regardless of what he said, justice would be served.

The pair drew plenty of attention as it was, not just because of their godly aura but because of their appearance. Jace had disbanded his glamour to show his natural self, and Clary had never bothered putting anything on in the first plate.

Fire and gold walked alongside each other, taking over the pavement and sending the other mortals scrambling.

Clary tossed her eyes forward and sniffed. "Don't you have some other doe-eyed woman to woo? Go away and woo them with your false charms."

"I've done enough wooing already, m'lady," Jace answered mockingly. "Or are you feeling left out from my attention?"

"Nothing would gladden me more than to see you walking in the opposite direction," the redhead snarled.

She turned back down the alleyway where the fight took place. By now, the offenders had disappeared - only recently from the looks of things, and in a sloppy fashion. The gravel was overturned from where they tried to stand, and there were blood splatters smeared mindlessly across the wall. Something was off about the whole thing. As an immortal, their senses developed over the centuries so that they were much higher and more sensitive than the mortals. Clary could smell the stench of blood and stale clothing, along with the faint sense of sex and cheap cologne in the air, but there was something else that was pulling at her senses.

Clary snapped her fingers and crouched down where she'd taken down the highlights boy. She ran her fingers across the ground and brought them up to her nose. Her eyes flicked back to God's Eye and she could see a thick gold dust linger about in the air, tainted by the ghostly stamp of death. "Can you see-

"-The mark of the dead? Just as well as you can," Jace's voice interrupted. He lost his flirty demeanor at the sudden change in atmosphere.

The redhead pursed her lips in annoyance."That someone snuck out of the Underworld." She stood up tall and straightened out her jersey.

Jace looked over the scene with his own eyes and frowned with malcontent. He strode away from the redhead and stared at a patch of disrupted gravel. The air was far more sweeter and more recent… and the faint trace of gunpowder.

"Someone's been through here," he observed, identifying the source of the scent. "A woman, early twenties by smell of it. She's carrying a weapon of sorts."

Clary's skin bristled with agitation. "During the scuffle, one of the boys' eyes turned glossed over a pale gold. If I'm to remedy this situation and stop these Eidolon's from jumping bodies, I need to get going…" Clary made a move to walk past, but Jace's arm stopped her from advancing. She looked up at him with annoyance.

"I'm the closest god in the area, Nemesis," he said seriously. His golden eyes matched her emerald orbs. "I can read and control the hearts and minds of every living thing, and I know the layout of this city better than you. Unless you're going to waste time ringing up the rest of the gods in the area, maybe you can put aside your obvious hatred to me for his one time."

The redhead wrung her arm out of his grip and stepped back skeptically. "You? Help me? Has an Eidolon possessed you as well?"

"Don't get me wrong, I absolutely abhor the sight of you," he scoffed with a scowl. "But when the dead don't stay dead, that annoys me even more so."

The redhead eyed him suspiciously. "Fine. Don't slow me down."

"Please," Jace scoffed. An after-image of his wings flickered behind him in the sunlight. "I'll try not kick you in the back of your legs."

* * *

 **Talk to me, people. Like? No like? Want something else added to the mix?**


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